“Slow down. I’m losing you,” Mom pants from behind me.
I halt and resume walking when she links her arm through mine. A nervous smile crinkles the corners of her mouth.
“Are you nervous for tonight?”
“I always get nervous when I watch my kids live,” she admits too quickly, afraid I might kick her out of the arena. “It’s in the job criteria for being a mom.”
It’s not every day our mom is able to make it to one of our shows. So, the pressure for tonight is amped up.
When fans started pouring into the arena, we could hear their chants from our dressing rooms. The energy is going to be insane tonight. My fingertips are tingling, and my heart is racing like a race horse.
“I can’t believe my babies have been traveling the world for almost a year.” Mom kisses my forearm that she’s holding on to. “This is the last night. Are you sad?”
Yes, and no.
This past year, I’ve felt like I was living in a dream. From parting ways with our old record label to creating and releasing our dream album and putting on a fantastic tour all over the world. However, when I ponder why this tour felt as amazing as it did, it wasn’t the music, or nights in the tour bus, or all the countries we visited.
It was the people I was with.
And the person who gave me a second chance.
If I were to do this tour without them, there wouldn’t be any sorrow running through my body when performing the closing song tonight. Thinking of my own bed, car, and house would be an inviting thought. Yet a twinge of something like disappointment crosses through my heart and lands right in the middle of the organ.
I found myself during this tour.
I got my voice back.
Yet the most important thing that this tour brought me washer.
She not only showed me passion through her love, but also that love for performing was still somewhere within me. Maybe growing older makes you see things differently. And that’s okay.
Taking in the busy hustle that happens before every show, I smile at a passing crew member. “Never thought I would hear myself say I’m going to miss a tour … but, yeah, I am.”
“That’s what happens when you’re treated well.”
I balk at her. I stammer with my mouth open, gibberish coming out, but I snap it shut when she gives me a knowing look.
If only she could have used her mom magic to see what our future held ten years ago, it would have saved us so much heartache.
Striding to the dressing room, I spot the iconic gold star on the closed door. I stop when I find all the girls huddled in a corner, crying.
“Ladies, I left for just five minutes. No need to cry for me.”
Nervously laughing, I give the boys awhat the fuck did you do lookas the girls are busy wiping away their tears.
“Boys,” Mom says in a stern, scary voice, “what did you guys do?”
“Nothing!” Leonidas exclaims, lounging on the couch, betrayed at the assumption. “One second, they were giggling; the next, they were bent over a phone, crying.”
The group’s mother hen makes her way to the girls and runs a hand down the back of each of their heads, comforting.
“How can you not cry when you read these messages, Mama?” Amelia shoves the phone up at her face.
Mom’s shoulders start shaking a second later, and all us guys groan in sync.
“Care to share with us? It’d make it a lot easier to know what we’re working with,” Levi asks before taking a giant bite out of a Granny Smith apple.
Trinity takes one for the team and reads out loud, voice thick with emotion, “You deserved protection, not control.”
